Love Unexpected
by GLITTERXGURL
Summary: Claire Lyons hopes to be pretty and fall in love, just like every other teenage girl. And it all happens for her, in the most unexpected place -a mental hospital.
1. Chapter 1

I've been toying with the idea of writing a story like this for a while. But then that book-turned-movie _It's Kind of a Funny Story _got super popular so I thought people would get upset that I was copying, but I've had this idea in my head forever and I'm on break so I figure now is as good a time as ever to start a new story:)

And I'm sorry, I know my title and summary are terrible...I'm horrible at coming up with those parts!

* * *

_Claire_

_.._

4-PSYCH, 0-WARD.

Or if you were smart enough to see it, it was a ward for psychos. A ward for the crazy, the mentally insane, the addicts or whatever else you could come up with.

A ward that would now be my home.

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What's there to talk about? I'm crazy. End of discussion."

"Honey, you're not crazy," Dr. Leslie, my new psychiatrist, rubs my back.

"Then why the hell am I locked up in a mental hospital?"

For this, Dr. Leslie has no answer. She simply sighs and helps me up off the couch. "Let's finish this session later, okay? It's your first day here, you probably need some rest."

She walks part of the way with me to my room, Room 132, and gives me a hug. "Remember Claire, we're all your friends here. And we're all trying to help you. Keep on keeping on," she shot me a grin before leaving.

Keep on keeping on. What a lame phrase. It's supposed to keep all of us loonies positive. It's definitely having the opposite affect on me.

I guess I should probably explain a little. My name is Claire Lyons, I'm fifteen, blah blah blah. The reason I'm stuck in St. Lucy's Psychiatric Hospital is that I have an anxiety disorder. Mild OCD, the odd panic attack, etc. My parents had decided it'd be best for me (but really, that means it's better for everyone) to stay here for a few months after a particularily bad panic attack.

The story was "Oh yes, Claire's just spending a semester or two in Florida! She needed some sunshine and grandma and grandpa Lyons are on their deathbeds and were wanting to see her _terribly_."

Of course, Westchester's elite are supposed to be perfect, flawless, lacking all errors. But I'm an exception. No one knows I'm here. Everyone seems to believe I'm actually in Florida. And oh how I wish that were the true story.

I walk into the bare, white room. Mom had requested it so I don't have a roommate, in case the roomie tells anyone I'm here. But we're all in total isolation, who's said roomie supposed to tell?

When I say total isolation, I mean it -no phones, no computers, no Twitter, no magazines or mail. We're allowed to use the phone from four till five on Sundays, but I know for a fact there's no one I'm calling. No way I'm calling mom and dad, who locked me in here in the first place. And my older brother Todd's too busy _actually_ being in Florida to care about me.

"Hi honey!" Mom appears in my doorway, smiling brightly. "Dad's just finishing checking you in, but I thought maybe while he was doing that, we could decorate in here! Look what I brought," she shoves three bags filled to the brim with God knows what.

"I was thinking we could make it similar to your room at home," she murmurs, already stripping my single bed of the boring white sheets. She replaces them with pale yellow and blue sheets, pillow cases and a comforter. On one of the pillows, she leans a tiny blue teddy bear on. "Look, honey, he's aquamarine coloured, like your birthstone! And he matches your bedspread."

Then she's off again, pinning up posters she must have taken from my room (I'm stoked to see that she'd brought my Logan Lerman poster!) and taping up pictures. Some of me and Dylan Marvil, my best friend, some of me and the family, of me and Todd.

"Thanks, mom," I sit on my newly-made bed, hugging my new teddy to my chest. I try not to let the tears that had welled up in my eyes spill over.

"I want you to get better," mom says firmly, tugging at the strand of fresh water pearls at her neck. "For good. With no more medication."

"Mom, I'll never be able to get 'better' completely. You know that."

Mom's smile turns sharply into a frown and her eyes, so much like my own, turn icy. "Claire, if you don't try then you won't. But-"

"MOM. I'm not going able to not take medication," I tell her.

"What am I missing?" Dad enters my room, a smile plastered on his face. _Fake. _That smile is totally fake. We both knows he doesn't want to be here.

"I go out of my way to make Claire feel happy here and she can't even try to get better," Mom steps beside Dad, so now they're both staring at me. I shiver.

"That's not it at all," I protest, arms crossed. "And news flash, this is a goddamn _mental hospital__**! **_One that you guys put me in! I'll never be happy here."

So mom leaves. Dad nods curtly, says "We'll see you, Claire. Have fun," and then walks out too.

"I'm not going to have fun!" I shout after them. "I hate it here! And I hate you too!"

And once my door is slammed, I break down and cry.

* * *

"Here, honey, why don't you sit here," a nurse kindly points me to a table at dinner that night.

I look around at the people already seated at my table. A skeletal brunette, a boy with mismatched eyes and a girl about my age with scars running all up her left arm. "Hi," I blurt nervously. "I'm Claire."

Only the skeletal girl looks up. "Massie," she says while eyeing a nurse. When the nurse looks away, she drops a forkful of peas. "Shoot," she murmurs, for anyone watching. "Anyway. What're you in for?"

I hesitate. Are our problems really discussed so openly among each other? "Anxiety," I murmur. "And OCD. What about you?"

"My parents think I have an eating disorder," she sniffs. "Really, that's the only fashionable reason to be in here," she shoots a disgusted look to the girl across from her, the one with the scars. I can't help but notice her eyes take on a slight look of disapproval when she realizes I don't fall in her 'fashionable' category.

"That's Skye," Massie says about the blonde. "She's in here for depression. Total snoozer," she rolls her eyes. "And that's Cam. He's here because he has a drug problem."

Cam looks up and catches my eye before looking down again. Massie resumes talking. "I kinda like you, you know, for a crazy-"

She said it. She said the C word. The word I say all the time. Why's it so different when she calls me crazy?

"Anyway, I-"

"Who's that?" I cut Massie off, staring at a slightly familiar looking boy across the cafeteria. He's not sitting and eating, instead standing and joking with some of the nurses. He laughs and shoots one of the nurses an adorable grin.

"Hmm? Blonde, brown eyes? I dunno," Massie taps a skinny finger on her chin. "I've never seen him before. But he's sure getting along with the nurses -none of _us_ ever do."

I pick up my tray and boldly make my way over to the food lines, which _coincidentally_ are right where the nurses and the cute boy are standing. But right when I walk by, the boy waves to the nurses and turns and exits the cafeteria. Damn.

"Hey, Claire," a nurse I vaguely recognize as Janet appears behind me. "How's your first meal here?"

"Um the apple juice is good," I try to smile. "Hey, Janet, who was that boy you guys were just talking to?"

"Think he's cute?" Janet smiles, reaching for a plate of mushy spaghetti.

"No," I shake my head. "I'm just trying to make the best out of being here so I'm trying to meet everyone and learn their names."

"Oh," Janet nods like it makes perfect sence, even though I'm positive it made absolutely non. "That's Derrick. He's not a patient here."

"Oh," I murmur. If he's not a crazy himself, then why would he ever want to talk to one like me?


	2. Chapter 2

Kay so I was expecting like no reviews or anything, but instead I get a bunch of sweet reviews/alerts/favourites.

Umm yeah, I love you!

* * *

_Claire_

_.._

There's nothing to do here. Seriously nothing. I know at home I always complained of boredom but here...no technology, no magazines, no nothing. I close my blinds, enveloping my room in darkness. Group therapy's in an hour, something I'm really not looking forward to -who wants to sit in a group and talk about their problems? Single therapy is bad enough!

I decide to go to one of the TV rooms and try and find something good. It's empty, thank god. I curl up on one of the soft couches, pulling the red throw down over my body.

Just as I'm starting to relax and watch _Real Housewives of the Orange County, _a flicker of movement catches my eye outside the door. It creaks open just enough for me to see a milk-chocolate brown eye and a flash of dirty-blonde hair.

Derrick.

"Sorry," he mumbles, not opening or closing the door. "I thought it was empty in here."

"S'okay," I mumble, trying to keep my eyes on the TV.

"What are you watching?" he pushes the door open more, just enough for him to crane his neck to look at the TV. "Ew, _Real Housewives_?" he wrinkles his lightly freckled nose. "My mom watches that."

I blush, pulling the red blanket up around my neck. Don't say anything, I command myself. He may be talking to me now, but he won't be when he finds out I'm crazy.

He flicks on the lights, causing us both to wince. "Sorry," he murmurs. "Just wanted to see who I was talking to. I'm Derrick. You are?"

"I am..late for group therapy," I get off the couch, even though I still have another twenty minutes before it even starts.

"You're a patient here?" Derrick asks, sounding surprised, as I push past him, hurrying away and inhaling the scent of Polo by Ralph Lauren. Yum.

I don't reply, instead sprinting down the hallway and into the safety of my room.

* * *

_Derrick_

_.._

"Derrick? DERRICK?" Mom waves a hand back and forth in front of my face. "Are you listening to me?"

"You're the therapist," I smile wryly. "Shouldn't _you _be listening to _me_?"

"Shut it," Mom smacks me with a rolled up newspaper.

I grin, trying to pay attention to the rest of my instructions. "So then if they're at their healthy weight, you check here. If not, check here." She commands, holding out a chart and a pen. She must notice my bored face because she sighs and says "Only today and tomorrow left, bud. And if you and you're football friends hadn't stolen Westeria Academy's mascot, you wouldn't be in this mess."

I nod, knowing the story from start to finish. Mom concludes with "And be happy I could get you to volunteer here, otherwise you'd be picking up trash on the highway with the rest of your friends."

"Yes mom," I sigh, trying to get back to work. See, my school, Westchester Prep, is rivals with the other elite secondary school here, Westeria Academy. So our football team thought it'd be cool to steal their mascot, a goat, and spray paint it gold and navy, our school colours. But then we got caught. And now we all had to do six days of volunteer work, and mom got me helping out here at St. Lucy's Pychiactric Hospital.

My thoughts soon wander back to that blonde girl who'd been sitting in the TV room. _My _TV room. I hang out in there whenever I'm done before mom, and that's the first time I've ever seen a patient in there. That girl certainly didn't _look _like a patient.

Her long gold curls had been slightly static-y and even though they stuck up, she still looked gorgeous. And her eyes -I'd seen them for maybe three minutes but I was pretty sure if I'd stared into them for another, I'd be completely head over heels for the girl.

Yet I don't even know her name.

What's she in here for anyways? She looked like any girl at my school -except prettier. And those big blue eyes seemed a little more thoughtful than most of the girls I know.

She definitely wasn't one of those anorexic chicks like...Maysie? I sorta remember some skinny girl talking to me this morning, but I have no clue what her name had been. But she didn't seem like one of those clinically insane people who just sat in the cafeteria, rocking back and forth with porridge dribbling out of the corner of their mouths.

"Derrick!" Mom snaps sharply.

I look up, dropping the charts I was supposed to be reading. "Yes?" I shoot her a charming smile.

Mom sighs. "Go get some lunch or something. I've got a session with a patient after lunch so I'll see you around...four? I'm working late tonight which means-"

"Which means I am too," I drone, causing my mom to grin.

I make my way down to the cafeteria, glancing in and out of rooms. Not that I'm looking for that girl. Just looking for anyone in particular. But getting that girl's name would definitely be a plus.

A small figure bumps into me slightly and I look down to see the ethereal blonde herself. I grin down at her crimson face. "Girl who was late for GT! How ya doing?"

"Just peachy," she crosses her lithe arms and juts out her chin stubbornly. "You know, being locked up in a mental hospital really does wonders to a girl's self-esteem."

I chuckle. "Fiesty. Not like most of these people who're 'locked up in a mental hospital'. I rarely get a 'hey' if I wave to someone."

"Rejection hurts, sweetie," she widens her eyes faux-sympathetically before turning around and walking towards the cafeteria.

A grin spreads on my face. "Wait up," I call, quickening my strides until our paces match. "Something tells me _you _don't know that much about rejection."

A scowl appears on her face, but she still looks hot. "My parents rejected me. They seem to think I'm crazy so here I am."

"What's wrong with you anyway?" I inquire. "I mean, you're not like _some_ of the people here."

She turns around to glare at me again, lips pursed and a stubborn glint to those gorgeous eyes. "What's 'wrong with me' is absolutely none of your business! You're not even a patient here," her voice creeps up an octave. "So just leave me alone!"

"Wait, how'd you know I wasn't a patient?"

"I asked Janet," she stomps her foot before realization washes over her. Her blue eyes widen and she clamps a hand over her mouth. "I mean Massie. _Massie _asked Janet."

"Asking about me, are you?" my grin expands. "Not that I blame you, most girls can't resist my great looks."

"Great looks?" she scoffs. "And I'm not like most girls," she lowers her chin slightly, glaring up at me under blonde tipped lashes.

_Oh man._

"Oh really?" I raise an eyebrow, somewhat challengingly. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Well since I'm sure most girls would just be _swooning _over the fact that you're asking their name, I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep that a secret."

"Oh come on! You know _my _name! I deserve to know yours'."

"Sorry _Derrick,_" she puts extra emphasis on my name, smirking. "Some things are better left secrets."


	3. Chapter 3

You guys are seriously making my life.

I want to update a bunch before I go back to school on the fourth (so if you read my other stories, expect updates for that too!) but I probably won't get too many updates up around the 31st and 1st! Apologies(:

* * *

_Derrick_

_.._

I watch That Girl leave her room -room 132, I note- and walk down the hallways to Mom's office. Ah, so _that's _who has therapy with mom now. Maybe I'll grill mom for information on her later.

I spy Mom still in the cafeteria, sitting and talking with her nurse friends, so I decide why grill Mom later when I can grill That Girl _now_?

I enter the office, finding That Girl on the couch, thin legs crossed Indian style and large blue eyes travelling the room. A look of surprise comes across her face when she sees me before narrowing her eyes and glaring at me suspiciously.

"What, are you stalking me?" That Girl snaps.

Well, a little bit. But I'm not to admit that to _her. _I cross my arms, staring at her challengingly. "Who's to say you're not stalking me?"

"_You _followed _me _here," she argues.

"Touché," I narrow my eyes. "So," I sit across from her in mom's chair and lean towards her slightly, the way mom always does with her patients. "As your new therapist, I think you should tell me your name. Don't worry, it can stay I secret, I won't tell anyone else. Patient therapist confidentiality and all that."

"You are _not _my therapist," she rolls her eyes. Then she leans in closer too, so close that I can see the sparkliness and green flecks in her eyes and smell her sweet perfume. "And I don't think I'll be telling you my name anytime soon. You're a stranger. Hasn't your mother taught you anything?"

"Apparently not," the firm and pissed voice of my mother sounds from the doorway. That Girl and I break apart quickly, blushing. "You know, Claire, I've _tried _to teach him, but the dimwit just won't listen. Like how he should never come in my office."

"CLAIRE!" I shout, jumping up and pumping my fists triumphantly. "It's Claire, your name! Yes! Thanks mom," I kiss mom on the cheek, exiting her office as quickly as I can.

Returning to my normal pace and waving to one of the nurses, I still feel the heat in my cheeks from being so close to her.

* * *

_Claire_

_.._

"I'm sorry," Dr. Leslie sits where Derrick had been seconds ago. "Ignore Derrick. He was dropped as a baby. Well not really, but I like to say he was, just so I have a reason for how he acts. I hope he didn't bother you too much."

"Nope. I didn't know you had a son," I murmur, half staring at the door where he'd just left.

"Unfortunately, I do," she rolls her eyes with a grin. "So what's on your mind?"

I blush. Yeah, I'm about to tell my therapist that I'm thinking about her son. That'd just be awkward. "Umm, just trying to remember what day it is today."

"Tuesday," Dr. Leslie murmurs absently. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

After an hour with Dr. Leslie, I exit her office and hear the gorgeous sound of someone playing piano. I'm kind of surprised -I didn't know anyone here had enough life in them to play piano. Especially this beautifully. I follow the notes to one of the libraries and find none other that Derrick Harrington sitting in front of a big shiny piano, tickling the ivories.

I lean against the door frame, listening to him for a good three minutes before clearing my throat. He jumps and turns around to look at me. "Hello _Claire,_" he gloats. "Now who's stalking who?"

"Stalking _whom,_" I correct, rolling my eyes. "Were you just playing?"

Derrick nods and turns back to the piano, so I sit beside him on the bench. We're so close our shoulders are touching. I bite my lip, trying not to blush. "Do you play?" he turns to look at me.

"Nope," I shake my head. "I do play the French horn though."

Derrick bursts out laughing. "The _French horn_?" he starts laughing again, so I smack him in the arm. "God, you're a nerd!"

"My mom thought it would look good on college applications," I mumble.

"College applications? How old are you?"

"Fifteen," I roll my eyes.

"Then why are you worrying about college applications _now_?"

"I have to 'think of my future' all the time. I've never eaten McDonald's because mom made me think about how fat it'd make me in the future. I take all AP classes, plus am on numerous school activites so I get into Princeton, Yale or Brown. I don't even _want _to go to college!"

"God, that sounds awful," Derrick looks at me sympathetically. "Can't you just say screw it, and go eat a quarter pounder or something?"

"No," I mope. "And now I'm in here," I trail my fingers along the dust on the bookshelf beside me. "All of Westchester thinks I'm in Florida though."

"I'll take you for a quarter pounder some day," he blushes slightly. "If you want."

"Sure," I smile. "That sounds fun."

"So..." he trails off as an awkward silence settles over us. "Hey, I can teach you a song on piano," he offers.

"Okay," I grin, scooting closer to the keys. "Which ones do I press?"

He stands behind me, arms reaching over me and hands positioned on my hands. I'm pretty sure I'm bright red. Derrick leans his head down so it's right beside mine and moves my hands to certain spots on the piano. "Press down these fingers," he pushes down my fingers on my left hand and a pretty sound escapes the piano. "There, you just played a C chord!"

I look behind at him, grinning. He really is good looking, especially this close up. Then we realize just how close we are and lean away, blushing.

"Derrick," Dr. Leslie appears in the doorway. "Ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah," he sneaks another look at me before joining his mom. "See you later, Claire."

I wave weakly. Just when I think Derrick and I could maybe go well together, I remember the biggest difference about us -he can leave here.


	4. Chapter 4

If I make this a long chapter, would it tie you guys over for the next few days? I'm back at school and it's midterm season so I won't have too much time to write!

* * *

_Claire_

_.._

The next day, I keep an eye out for Derrick. It's lunch and I haven't seen him yet all day. I bring my tray to what I now describe as my 'usual table', along with Massie, Cam and-

"Where's Skye?" I sit down. I wouldn't consider these guys my _friends -_I don't have any friends here-_, _but talking to them is better than talking to no one. And Massie always knows all the gossip here. Ironic, it's almost like we're two friends at school.

Massie looks around once, twice, before leaning towards me. "She's gone," Massie whispers.

I gasp. "Like..._dead _gone?" I knew Skye was depressed but did she actually kill herself?

"No," Massie sulks, looking somewhat disappointed. "Her parents yanked her out of here. There's apparently this hospital in Canada that uses shock therapy. Here you have to be over eighteen unless your parents insist upon it."

I shudder. Shock therapy. My parents would most definitely try and get me 'fixed' using that if they knew what it was.

"So where have you been?" Massie inquires, shredding pieces of lettuce on her plate. "I haven't seen you anywhere when I do my rounds."

Massie's 'rounds' are her secret way of exercising. The nurses think she walks around the entire hospital, cheering up all the patients. She really just power-walks throughout the entire hospital and flirts with the cute doctors.

"I've been around," I shrug. "I-" I break off, catching Derrick's eye as he enters the cafeteria. His eyes travel from me to the door and I stand up, empty my tray into the garbage and follow him out of the cafeteria.

"It's snowing," he tells me as we walk together. I decide to change my mind -I do have a friend and it's Derrick.

"Really?" I ask, somewhat wistfully. I love the snow. I love winter and Christmas and and the cold. My heart sinks. This year I won't be able to go out and play in the snow, I'll be stuck here.

"It's been snowing all night," he immediately opens my blinds after entering my room.

"I usually keep my blinds shut," I murmur, pressing my forehead against the cool window. "My mom's so paranoid -she thinks someone will be lurking around and see me and then tell people I'm here."

"Your mom shouldn't be so negative about you being here," Derrick breathes on the window and badly draws a happy face. "I mean, it's helping you, right?"

I nod. "I guess. It just sucks that I have like zero communication with the outside world. And this is your last day volunteering here which means I'll have no friends," I shrug, like it's no big deal, but the thought of not seeing or talking to Derrick makes me feel incredibly lonely.

"Let's go outside!" He says suddenly, warm brown eyes lighting up like a little kid's on Christmas day.

"Derrick, I can't, I'm not allowed to leave." That's a depressing thought, but it's true. "I want to but it's only my third day here. I'm not allowed passes out until I've been here a month."

"We'll sneak out," Derrick grins, his eyes dancing. "Come on Claire, it'll be fun! You're always complaining about how bored you are!"

I bite my lip. I want to go outside and play in the snow -the stale air in here is already getting to me after just three days!- especially with Derrick but what if I get caught? What will they do? Throw me out? Use shock therapy?

"I promise I'll take all the blame if we get caught," he holds out his pinkie finger.

With a sigh, I wrap mine around his. "You better. Pass me that scarf?" I point to the green and black plaid scarf hanging off my desk chair. It was ugly as hell, but Todd gave it to me two Christmases ago and wearing it always made me feel close to him.

Once Derrick has all my stuff -I'm not wearing it because it'd make it obvious we were sneaking out-, he dashes into his mom's empty office and grabs his jacket and gloves. "After you," he nods to the red exit sign. He widens his eyes and nods with more emphasis. "Go."

Is it really that easy? Just walk out the door? A quick glance around proves that no nurses are around. So I bolt out the door, Derrick following on my heels. Then, just like that, I'm standing in the cold outside, snow falling and clinging to my eyelashes. "Oh my god! That was so easy! I'm outside! You're a lifesaver!"

The cold hits me in the face but feels great and I inhale the fresh air so fast I feel like my lungs are about to burst. But then I see a light go on in one of the rooms on the bottom floor and I bite my lip. "Do you know how much trouble I'm going to get it?"

"Quit worrying," Derrick licks a ball of snow he made. So gross.

"I can't help it," I run a hand through my hair. My fingers get tangled in some of the curls, reminding me that I haven't conditioned my hair in two days. "I have anxiety."

"Is that why you're in here?" Derrick stares at me curiously and sits down in a big pile of snow the snow plough left. I sit beside him, feeling the heat of his body contrast against the cold in the air.

"Yup," I nod and shrug.

Derrick ponders this. "Hmm. I actually had no idea why you were in here. Other than, you know, stalking me," he grins before shoving a handful of snow down the back of my jacket.

I shriek and make a snowball and squash it against the top of his head. After an hour long snowball fight, we lie on our backs in the snow, looking up at the sky and the snow coming down.

"That was fun," Derrick pants, still out of breath.

"Yeah," I grin. "It was."

"I hate to say it, but we should probably get back in there," he stands up and offers me his gloved hand.

I blush as I take it and he pulls me up. Once we're standing, I notice Derrick's blushing too.

Getting into the hospital is surprisingly just as easy as getting out. I hide in the bushes while Derrick walks in and checks that the coast is clear and then once it is, I just walk into the lobby.

"Don't make a habit out of sneaking in and out," Derrick warns as we put our gloves over the heating vent in my room. "Unless you're with me. I'll make sure you don't get into trouble."

"Thanks," I blush slightly.

"Nice room," he takes a look around before sitting on one of the sky blue chaises mom ordered from Ikea.

"Please, it's awful," I roll my eyes and sit on the other one.

Derrick shrugs. "I have nothing to compare it to. I've never been in a girl's room before except my sister's."

"You've never been in a girl's room before?" I raise my eyebrows. He was so cute, how was that even possible? "What happened to girls swooning over your great looks?"

Derrick chuckles. "Oh trust me, they swoon. I just haven't met the right girl to swoon over yet. I do like this room though," he nods towards my bed. "Blue and yellow are my favourite colours."

"Same!" I grin. "But it's a room in a mental hospital -it's not that nice."

"You'll be out soon enough," Derrick reassures me, making me smile.

"Don't think of it as a mental hospital, think of it as...a spa. Girls like spas right?"

I grin. "Not me. Mom dragged me to way too many of her girls' weekends as a kid. I'm kinda sick of 'em."

"Well what are you into then?"

"Hmm. I love museums," I blush. "I guess I'm a closet nerd, but I love art."

"Do you draw or anything?"

"I try," I tell him. "I don't consider myself that great, but others think I am."

"I'd love to see something you've drawn," he offers eagerly.

"I'll draw you something," I blush deeper. "If you play for me some more on the piano some day."

"It's my last day of volunteering," Derrick says, causing my heart to sink. "But now I have a reason to come back."

* * *

_Derrick_

_.._

"It's your last day of helping me out and want to know what you've done? Totally and completely not helped me out."

"Sorry mom," I spin around in her office chair.

"Where have you been anyway?" Mom asks, scanning through some emails on her laptop. "I asked some of the nurses, but no one saw you all day. Massie asked about you today too."

Massie? Is she the...I think she's the anorexic chick. But who knows, the only person I really pay attention to is Claire. "I've been...around," I shrug.

"I heard you playing piano," Mom pauses from shuffling through papers to look up at me over the top of her red-framed glasses. "You _hate _piano."

"I don't _hate _it," I squirm uncomfortably. "It's just not fun with Mrs. Dinkby," I name my old piano teacher, a woman who kept rulers in her belt to hit you with if you flubbed a note.

"Well you sounded great. Are you getting back into it?"

"Maybe," I shrug. "I-"

"Derrick, where were you really today?" Mom squints at me. "I know you're lying to me. I want you to be able to connect with me. I was a teen once too."

"I hung out with Claire," I admit, spinning in the office chair again to keep from letting mom see my blush.

"Claire Lyons?" she sounds surprised. "Derrick, I don't know if that's a great idea."

"Why not?" I'm instantly defensive. "She's nice." And pretty. And funny. And-

"She's also a patient here, honey," mom says gently but firmly -her therapist voice. "She-"

I'm taken aback. "Are you saying she's mentally unstable or something?"

"No! Derrick, she's-"

"She's what? You're her therapist -you're supposed to be there to help her. And-"

"Derrick." Mom glares at me. "Shut up for a second and listen. Claire is a patient here. You're not. You met her what -two days ago? Don't get attached. You're from two very different worlds -Claire's parents are_ Judy and Jay Lyons._ They definitely would not approve of their daughter hanging out with someone from a middle-class family."

"Well I'm not hanging out with her _family_," I slump in my seat, arms crossed. "And from what I've heard about them, I don't like them. I _like _Claire, mom, and even if her parents don't want her hanging out with people in a different social standing, she doesn't care."

Mom purses her lips. "Well just be careful. And don't hurt Claire. And do not be a bad influence on her."

Too late, I've already sneaked her out of here. "Can I go get something to eat?" I ask since she's turned her attention back to her papers. "How late are you working till?"

"Yes," she murmurs, squinting at her messy writing. "And late. You can call Dad if you want, I'll be here until eleven."

"I'll just stay here," I leave, ignoring her pointed look. "See you later."

In the cafeteria, I spy Claire's mess of gold curls seated with that skinny girl and some guy. I sit down in the only open chair and smile at her friends. "Hey, I'm Derrick."

"I know," the skinny girl sticks out her flat chest and bats her lashes. "I'm Massie, remember?"

Ohhh. The one who talks to mom about me. I smile weakly then turn to Claire. "Wanna go play some chess or something?"

"My parents finally put a TV in my room, wanna go see what's on?"

We leave the table, ignoring Massie's annoyed sigh. After deciding on watching one of Claire's many DVDs, I rack my brain for something to say, since we're both sitting on awkward silence as the beginning of the movie starts.

"Now there's a hot chick," I point to a curly blonde girl walking along side some other chick in _Easy A_. Claire picks at her cuticles. Oh wait -way to go, Derrick. "She kinda looks like you," I blurt quickly, causing us both to blush. Smoooooth one, buddy.

"You're saying I look like a slut who prides herself on having big tits?" Claire raises her golden eyebrows.

"No. No, sorry. All of that came out wrong," I grab the remote from her and rewind the movie to the very beginning. "Let's start all this over."

Claire giggles, which I take as a good sign. I like her laugh, it's cute. As the part where I messed up comes on, I look at Claire, head tilted slightly. "Now there's a hot chick," I say, pointing at her this time, which just makes Claire laugh more. "She kinda looks like her," I nod towards the TV. "Except you're not a slut who prides herself on having big tits."

"Nice save," she grins approvingly before dissolving into giggles again.

With a sad twinge, I realize tomorrow I go back to school for two days before Christmas break, but my volunteering days here are over, and I won't get to see Claire. I go to one of the better public schools here, which just happens to be worst enemies with her super elite private school.

"Hey, think you can do me a favour?" she asks quickly.

"Depends," I say, even though I know I'd do almost anything she asked.

"Will you get me some candy? The Sweet Shoppe has the best, but seriously, even if you just went to Seven-Eleven, I'd be happy."

"Candy?" I repeat. "Since when do girls like you eat candy?"

_"Girls like me?" _she sticks her chin out stubbornly. "I live off of candy, but I have to sneak it because of my mom. Anway, I'll write you a list," she rips a piece of paper out of a notebook and scribbles things down before passing it to me.

"Pop Rocks, gummy bears, gummy worms, gummy feet, jelly beans, Hot Tamales and Sour Patch Kids?" I read. "Wow, when you said you lived off of candy, you weren't kidding."

"So will you get me some? You'll have to come back here to bring it to me, even though you're not volunteering anymore."

Ohhh. I see what she did. I grin. "Fine, I'll bring you some. But you have to share half with me."

"Half? How about...ninety-ten."

"Twenty-eighty," I bargain, which makes her smile.

"Deal," she holds out a hand.

"But in order for us to eat the candy, you have to sneak onto the roof with me."

"Are you kidding?" Claire widens her pretty eyes. "I've already sneaked out once, I'm not doing it again!"

"Then looks like it's a hundred percent of the candy for me. And there's no point for me to come back here so..."

"Fine. But if I get in trouble-"

"I told you, I'd take the blame. So it's a date?"

She turns bright red. "It's a...date," she murmurs the last word. "See you tomorrow."

"Great," I slip out the door. "Wouldn't miss it."


End file.
